


No Good Deed

by captainflintsjacket



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Angst, M/M, Swearing, loosely a song fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 19:16:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20441132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainflintsjacket/pseuds/captainflintsjacket
Summary: James tries to give Thomas the funeral he deserves.





	No Good Deed

Good faith and good works. These were two tenets which had been drilled into James McGraw from an early age. Good faith and good works and you shall be received into the kingdom of God with open arms. 

It was a phrase he repeated to himself when his mother died. Then, again, when his father ventured out to sea and never returned. It was a phrase that brought him comfort when his grandfather finally succumbed to fever, leaving him completely and utterly alone in the world. Good faith and good works. What a crock of shit. 

He repeated the words to himself now, standing at the edge of the cliff side, the edge of his future looming dark and unyielding before him, but they offered no comfort. 

Had he not dedicated his life to good works? Was that not the point of joining the Navy? It certainly wasn’t for the food or the fame, though something could be said for the swell in James’ chest when Admiral Hennessy had said he was proud of him. And as far as good faith, there was nothing James believed in more passionately than Thomas Hamilton. 

If this was the reward for faith and works, God could keep his kingdom, James thought bitterly. There was no Paradise that could compare to the warmth of Thomas’s company anyway. No light like the love with which he gazed at James. 

A crack of thunder in the distance brought James’ attention back to the horizon, swirling with the same dark clouds that hung in his heart. He took a step forward and the toes of his boots kissed air as the cliff side dug into the bottom of his foot. He thought briefly of how easy it would be to simply lean forward and let the sea take him. Then he thought of Miranda, sitting alone and lonely in his spartan apartment, already mourning the loss of one of the loves of her life. 

James stroked the watch in his hand as he had many times at sea. An impractical gift for a sailor who had long since gotten used to telling time by the bells. It was likely to break before he ever used it - had broken in fact. A few months ago during a storm. Salt water had rusted the gears. James hadn’t the heart to tell Thomas, knowing how much the watch meant to him. 

_____

The sun shone on Thomas’s hair like spun gold as the pair hunched over the desk in his study. James was sure whatever he was talking about was important, but for the life of him he could focus on nothing but the shine of Thomas’s hair, the beads of sweat gathering at the nape of his neck, sliding down his back. James wanted to follow them with his tongue. 

“Am I boring you, Lieutenant?” Thomas didn’t bother to hide his smile as James snapped back to attention, flush creeping to his cheeks. 

“Never, my Lord." 

"How many times must I ask you to stop calling me ‘my lord’ in private?” Thomas sat back down in his chair, one leg crossed over the other and James understood now why art was created. To capture moments like this: Thomas relaxed and regal looking up at him with eyes that knew only hope and love and none of the horrors of the world. 

“Forgive me, my Lord. It would be inappropriate.” James sat on the edge of Thomas’s desk, reveling in the way Thomas’s eyes raked over him. 

He studied James a moment longer, fingers tracing over his lips. “Of course. Tell me, Lieutenant, would it also be inappropriate to offer you gift for the anniversary of your birth?" 

James started, caught off guard by Thomas’s suggestion. "My birth?”

“Yes,” Thomas said, rising from the chair. “Your birth has been such a gift to me, it seems only fair you receive a gift in return.”

“How did you know? I’m sure I never told you.” James stood as Thomas stepped towards him, stopping barely a hair’s breadth away. 

“I have spies in many places.” Christ, how James wanted to kiss the smirk off his face. Instead, what he said was:

“Miranda, then?" 

Thomas merely laughed and leaned forward, crowding James against the desk. For a moment, James forgot how to breathe, how to think. He was sure, if asked, he wouldn’t even be able to give his own name. All he knew was the scent and the sight of Thomas Hamilton in front of him and then, just as quickly, Thomas was retreating back to his chair, having retrieved what he was looking for in his desk drawer. 

James cleared his throat, begging his heart to stop hammering so loudly in his chest. He closed his eyes and imagined the sea, cold and rough and gray and so unlike Thomas that he felt the heat in his cheeks receding. Thomas held a small box out to James as his eyes reopened. 

James tested the weight of it in his hand, allowing his rough fingers to stroke the ribbon tying the box closed. Thomas laughed from his seat. "It’s not made of glass, you know." 

’I know,’ James wanted to say. ’But it’s from you so it’s equally precious.” He kept his thoughts to himself as he tugged on the ribbon, which gave way under his touch as freely as James gave way to Thomas. Thomas, who was leaning forward now with rapt attention, following the curves of James’s fingers as they curled around the box much the same way as they had curled around him the night before. 

“Get on with it,” Thomas said barely above a whisper. 

James’ mouth twitched in a smile. “Careful, my Lord. Any louder and someone might think I’m fucking you in here." 

"Now who’s being inappropriate?" 

James laughed and it was like music, more beautiful than any symphony Thomas had heard in his lifetime. He was transfixed with the man before him as he finally slid the watch out of the box. Silence stretched between the two, warm and languid.

"Do you like it?" 

James did not answer right away. Instead, he turned the watch over and over in his palm, fingers caressing the etchings on the surface. He’d never seen anything so fine in his life, much less held it in his hands. The only watch he’d ever owned before had been cracked across the face when his grandfather gave it to him. This…this was entirely something else. Something beyond his station. 

"It’s beautiful,” he whispered. 

“Good,” Thomas said, rising from his seat. He stopped just shy of James, watching him admire the gift. “I was worried the compass might be too on the nose." 

"No, it’s perfect. You're…” Perfect, James thought. 

Thomas took another step closer, fingers coming to rest on James’ arm. “I had hoped it would serve to always guide you home to me." 

James lurched forward then, like a ship into dock, before his lips found Thomas’s. Thomas ran his hand up James’ arm until it came to rest at the nape of his neck, fingers brushing the short hairs there and keeping James firmly anchored. 

_____

A sob tore from James’ throat at the memory, mingling with the roar of the waves as they crashed into the cliff face. He knew he could not delay any longer - had already delayed more than was safe. With resignation, he held his arm out before him. The watch chain slipped between his fingers swaying like a pendulum in his hands. James could almost hear the beat of the clock in Thomas’s parlor. 

If James could not protect Thomas, could not free him or touch him or gaze upon him once more then let this be the last good work he does. Not the funeral rite that Thomas Hamilton deserved but the best James could afford him. 

"Fair weather and Godspeed.” A soft whisper carried away by the wind as James opened his hand and watched the last shred of Thomas - the last shred of himself - fade into the sea.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on @trade-baby-blues on Tumblr.


End file.
